


Material Prayers

by gala_apples



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: Drunk Sex, M/M, No orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-11
Updated: 2011-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-27 05:04:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something happens after Michelle and Jal get tanked with the police officers in Russia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Material Prayers

For someone that doesn't go to church at all, Michelle has a lot of faith. Her faith is in nouns, people, places and things. Not concepts, like God, or Justice, or even Love. She holds faith that places will hold up, people will never change, and things will always do what they're supposed to.

Being in Russia doesn't make it different. She thought it might make a difference. Like when Christians go to third world countries and feed orphans, they change. Or when Muslims -at least, she thinks it's Muslims, she's never had this conversation withAnwar - go on that long walk in the desert to reach Mecca, they change. Michelle thought that travelling might show her different places, different people, different objects.

When they land, Michelle learns buildings are the same everywhere. The hotel they stay at is slightly more uncomfortable than the few hotel parties she's been to, but it's still got a bed and lights and toilets. There are still factories that commit what seem like horrible crimes and ravages -although, seriously, at least back in Bristol they never had to visit them for school- against mankind. And there are still pubs, tiny places with grubby doors with the paint half scraped off.

Nor are the people different. The hotel manager is rude as hell, just like last time when the tall guy called the cops and they all had to run, except for the poor fucker who's credit card had been used. The bartender doesn't check her ID, he wants young people in his bar. There are still people that spot her in a sexy shirt and buy her what she wants.

And there is still alcohol. She's in Russia, taking vodka shots, and she wants to laugh at how right it is. It's like drinking rum in Brazil, or travelling over to Scotland for scotch. Not that it really matters what she's drinking, just that she gets drunk. As a bonus,Jal is also getting drunk. Michelle is well aware of how tight Jal usually is, and how much she needs experiences like these.

By the time they're stumbling back to the hotel they're tanked, holding on to each other and the nice older men for balance. Michelle doesn't know exactly why the blokes are following them, doesn't remember inviting them. It's not like she's going to screw any of them. She doesn't screw any of the guys she tricks drinks out of. But that message is a bit harder to pass along when the blokes don't speak the right language.Jal'll figure it out, Jal's always the brains of any operation.

But when they walk into the hotel, some fat bastard's got a gun on Maxxie. If she was sober she'd be terrified, as it is she's just pissed that someone would consider hurting one of her mates. But the nice policemen separate from her andJal and hold their guns on him, _that's right!_ she wants to shout, _take that!_ and everything is okay.

She makes Jal pause for a minute so they can tell the boys how silly they are for getting into such a mess. Then they go back to their room. Normally Michelle would shower after a evening at a pub. Her body heats up as she drinks, sometimes bad enough that she needs to run to the loo and stick her wrists under cold tap water. But this is stupid Russia, and there are no showers.

She thinks about it a second before shrugging and stripping off her dress. It's not like Jal hasn't seen her in her panties anyway. It's only after she's resting on her bed, sheets scratchy but cool against her overheated body that she remembers she's not wearing a bra. The dress has no back and she didn't want to look tacky, so she hadn't worn one. Oh well, it's not like Jal hasn't seen breasts before.

Michelle lies back, fingers absently drumming on her bare stomach. Jal doesn't strip, but Michelle doesn't really mind because she looks really hot in her lavender-grey sparkly top. She flashes back to first entering the bar and helping Jal show off her cleavage, pulling the stretchy fabric down for Jal's own good. She wants to do it again.

And because she's drunk, and because she has faith that clothes are always for the same thing; making people look hot, she stands up, ignoring the way the room wobbles, and moves over toJal. Her fingers don't quite work right, instead of deftly plucking the fabric she ends up mashing her hands against Jal's breasts.

Somehow it's not as awkward as it could be. Her hands linger, but Jal doesn't bitch, and Jal bitches about everything so Michelle's actually quite happy. And she leans forward, tips is more like it, and presses her lips againstJal's. She can feel Jal laughing, but it doesn't matter because once she stops she sticks her tongue in Michelle's mouth and it's pretty fucking great.

Michelle is wearing panties, but they don't seem to matter. It's just a slip of fabric, and Jal's fingers are dancing on her. She's shaved because Tony likes it that way, but Jal seems to like it too, if the smile is anything to judge by. Michelle shivers as Jal's fingers dip into her. It's so different from what she's had before, Jal's touching her because she wants to touch her, not because fingering is the step before fucking.

She doesn't come. Or at least if she does she's drunk enough to not remember it a minute later. But she's kind of used to that, Tony's usually number one in a sexual equation. They just make out for a bit, thenJal gets bored or Michelle gets bored or something happens anyway, and Michelle puts her dress back on and stumbles down the hall to go see Tony. Tony's not there when she gets there, so she crawls into his bed and falls asleep. In the morning they're going back to Bristol, and nothing will have changed, and that's good for the soul.


End file.
